A writer without a pen,
a guitar without a string,
a lover with no one
not even a fling,
how can a man so poor and so alone
could still be happy
and could still sing.
I may have nothing,
I maybe unfortunate
and forsaken,
but if I had to choose
between the grandeur of this world
to what God had given to me,
I will still be wanting
to be,
what I am today.
In silence I'm entertained
by the laughter of ''the wind'',
and who could resists the allurement
and rhythm of the falling rain;
the soothing flow of endless river
tamed my wildest dream
and nourished my veins;
at sunset as I talk to God,
the sun god shows me
the masterpieces
that he paints.
At night I'm thrilled
by the horrifying cry of the wild;
fear has a reason
and darkness gives me a hint
and showed me some pictures
of the other side;
I lay on the ground
close by a cliff and enjoy
the astounding beauty of the benediction moon,
as I reminisce the neon lights and the music
of the nearby town which was once mine
and still awaits my dominion.
ArlenKaliFuentes
10:25 AM 4/15/2010
